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Thursday, August 29, 2013

“Miriam, please don’t die. Please
try to come into the kitchen. I have medicine that will help you. Cool water.
As much as you want. We have plenty, and I’ll collect more. Please, Miriam.”

Alice’s voice couldn’t sound any
different, but it did. Miriam heard desperation. Alice was afraid. The thought
shocked her into movement. She rolled onto her stomach and pulled herself with
her left arm, pushing with her left foot.

“Okay, Alice. I’m coming. Do we
have any strawberries left it the vaccuum packs?”

“Yes, we have 27 packs remaining.
Would you like me to pull one out for you?”

“Yes, Alice. I think I deserve a
reward for this,” Miriam’s voice was barely a whisper.

“Yes, Miriam, you do deserve a
reward. Please continue into the kitchen and I will have it ready for you.”
Miriam heard relief in Alice’s voice. She kept crawling.

“These are the best strawberries I
ever had. Thanks, Alice,” she leaned over the counter so she could use her left
hand to eat and drink, to swallow the medicine Alice had dispensed hours
earlier. She climbed down and lay on the cool kitchen floor. “Alice, I’m going
to sleep again. Two hours, okay?”

“Okay, Miriam. Please wake up.
Miriam? Please wake up? Miriam?”

It didn’t feel like she had slept
at all. Her whole body ached. Wait. Her whole body burned. She looked down and
tried to move her right hand. It flopped feebly on the floor.

“Yes!”

“What, Miriam?”

“I have feeling on my right side,
and I can move my hand a little. I think I’m getting a little better. I need a
bath, to clean off my butt and legs. They’re a mess.”

“I’ll heat water so you can have a
hot bath when you get into the bathroom,” Alice promised. Miriam heard the
relief in her voice.

Her right leg was feeble and
uncoordinated, but she made much better time into the bathroom and soon pulled
herself into the most luxurious hot bath she had ever felt. Her skin burned,
and she reveled in the feeling.

“I guess I’m not going to die
today, Alice.”

“That’s good, Miriam. I don’t want
you to die.”

“Why not?” Miriam asked, drowsily
waving her hands back and forth in the water. When Alice didn’t answer, she
looked up. “Alice? Why don’t you want me to die?”

“I don’t want to be left here all
alone,” Alice finally said.

Miriam leaned back in the tub. She
had always thought she was the last one left. “I know, Alice. I know.”

“I had another afib, and a stroke, I think,
this time. I can barely move. I wish Jacob had finished your mobile functions
before he died.”

“I do too, Miriam. Can you come
into the house? What do you need?”

“Water. Food. Medicine. A bath. My
butt hurts.”

“Your butt hurts?”

“Yeah, never mind. I’m coming. Can
you dispense those things for me?”

“Yes, Miriam. They will be on the
kitchen counter when you come in. I can’t dispense them on the floor. Can you
get up?”

“I’ll figure something out.
Alice?”

“Yes, Miriam?”

“I think I’m dying.”

“Please don’t die, Miriam.”

She laughed weakly, having pulled
herself into the center of the main room. “I’ll try, Alice. I think I need to
rest here for a little bit. Don’t let me sleep more than two hours, okay?”

“Okay, Miriam.”

She dreamed. Air Force training,
the NASA trials, falling in love with Jacob on the Space Station, the trip to
the Mars Station. The longer trip to Vermella, named for the Finn who
discovered the red dward star with three planets, the farthest with a
breathable atmosphere, once you got used to the nitrogen tang.

The crash. Holding Sarah in her
arms, the first to die. Building the house from the wreckage. Burying Ben,
their captain, their fearless leader. Burying Jacob. Burying Andrea, the last
to die.

Waiting, always waiting. It had
been more than long enough. Why had no one come? Not even a Rover probe to
check on them? After Andrea died, Miriam quit counting days, noting them in her
journal. She explored. There was nothing here. No vegetable life. No animal
life. She planted the garden stores they had salvaged, and it grew and bloomed
unchecked. She let it go. It was years since she had dreamed of meat,
chocolate, wine, cold beer, her mother’s chili.

“Miriam? Wake up. Miriam? Wake up.
Miriam? Wake—”

“I’m up,” Miriam croaked.

Alice said, “Good. Come into the
kitchen. I have the things you asked for here.”

Miriam groaned and pulled herself
up to sitting, then rolled back onto her side. Her bottom and legs were raw.
She looked down and saw blood on the floor where she had come in. Tears sprang
to her eyes and she gasped, a choking sob.

Miriam felt the now-familiar
fluttering of her heart and lay down on the ground before they reached their
peak. This time, a shooting pain lanced up from the back of her neck up through
her skull. She felt like the top of her head might explode. Darkness.

When she woke, she could not feel
her right side, and she wondered how she would get home. The red dwarf sun had
set, and the moons were already high. At least it would not be completely dark.
She slept.

There was nothing to disturb her,
not even an ant. Nothing to see her distress, not even a bird or a buzzing
insect. No one to rescue her. Her lips were thick and dry when she woke. She
fumbled around with her left hand and found her water bottle.

Two swallows. That’s all she ever
allowed herself. It took so long to capture the condensed water vapor from the
air, she felt the need to save as much as possible. This was a rather
exceptional situation, of course. She gave herself two more long swallows.

She could rock, side to side, and
when she finally rolled onto her useless right side, she pushed herself up with
her left hand, straining all the muscles she could feel to pull herself sitting
upright. The moons were bright in their apposite orbits, and they would give
her good light for most of the night. She tried to estimate how far she was
from the house. How long had she been walking?

Sitting, she could push with her
left leg and help with her left hand. She felt ridiculous. It was a long time
since she had felt self-conscious. Mainly she was glad she had worn her
threadbare jumpsuit for sun protection that day. She rarely bothered with
clothes any more. She could feel the fabric rubbing and tearing against her
bottom and the backs of her legs. So much for the jumpsuit. She grimaced.

The moons had crossed by the time
she pulled herself close enough to see the house. She had only two swallows
left in her water bottle, and she promised herself she could drink them as soon
as she reached the porch. In the moonlight, she could see past the house to the
headstones lined up in a military-straight row. “Should I pass the house and
come lie down with you?” she thought to her old friends. She rarely spoke aloud
any more. Only to Alice.

“Alice, I’m hurt,” she said, lying
on the porch after she drank her last two swallows of water.

Wednesday, August 28, 2013

Dhen popped the last widget from
the stack of frames in front of him. He dropped the widget in the full tub on
the standing conveyor belt, and the empty frame on the lower beltThe digital
display flashed 90 seconds. Good, he’d kept up his steady speed and earned a
little break. He laid down his small pincers and hammer and stretched his arms
overhead, popping his shoulders as he bent backwards, reaching his hands to the
floor. Resting all six fingers on the floor, he pressed up and down, sliding
his vertebrae against each other in relief.

Mhek dropped down beside him,
stretching his long legs under the quiet conveyor belt. “Do you ever wonder?”
He asked quietly as he flexed his feet forward and back, up and down, side to
side.

Dhen glanced over with raised
eyebrows, then up to see if any of the floor monitors were around. “Wonder
what, you egghead?”

Mhek rubbed his bald head
ruefully. “Wonder what it is we make here.”

Dhen shrugged and swung his body
upright, reaching down to pull Mhek standing. He tugged Mhek close for a
moment. “Don’t wonder. Not in here. And not aloud.” He pushed Mhek away and
said loudly, “I did not get my frames on your side!”

Dhen’s eyes widened and he laughed
loudly. “That’s all you’ve got, egghead?” He shook his own blare blue noggin.

Mhek opened his mouth to reply,
then snapped it shut. A floor manager stood on the balcony above them, idly
swinging his bhewtin whip back and forth. Mhek busied himself adjusting the bin
on the belt, hoping to avoid the manager’s notice, or the whip’s.

He heard Dhen’s whispered
countdown, “Four, three, two, one…” The conveyor belt jerked and groaned as it
rolled the bins past them, disappearing into the dark chamber next to Dhen.
Mhek looked the other way, watching the next batch of full frames emerge from
the chamber on his side. Twenty frames, forty widgets each. Two taps per strut
to release, then a tug with the pincers to pluck each widget free and drop it
in the tub.

In sixteen cycles, since he
matured and started losing his baby fuzz, he still had no idea what the widgets
did, what they were part of. He didn’t understand why he wasn’t supposed to ask
questions. Why they weren’t supposed to know anything.

The digital clock reset to the new
shift’s countdown. The sky had lightened and the sun’s golden rays peeked
through the windows far away on the side of the factory walls. Mhek turned, and
Dhen was already facing the light. Another countdown. “Two one…” The light
burst through the factory, setting it ablaze with golden fire. Every metal
surface reflected the light as if it were made of gold. Mhek held his breath,
silently counting with Dhen until, with a single flash, the light was gone, the
factory returned to cavernous darkness, buzzers sounded, and the clink, clink,
clink of hammers filled the air once more.

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Favorite Quotes

You have to start somewhere in order to end up somewhere good!~Margaret S. McGraw

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Be kind, be brave, be fierce, be love.~Laura Anne Gilman

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Some things in life cannot be fixed. They can only be carried.~Megan Devine

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Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things you didn’t do than by the ones you did do. So throw off the bowlines, sail away from the safe harbor. Catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore. Dream. Discover. ~Mark Twain

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Keep your feet on the ground and keep reaching for the stars. ~Casey Kasem

When opportunity puckers up, lean in for a smooch. Only a fool tells the angels to come back tomorrow.~Steven Barnes

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Be kind whenever possible. It is always possible.~ Dalai Lama

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We’re fools whether we dance or not, so we might as well dance.~ Japanese proverb

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No act of kindness, no matter how small, is ever wasted.~ Aesop

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Everything flows, nothing stays.~ Heraclitus

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Balance, always a balance. Work to give life purpose, play to lift the heart, music to soothe the spirit, love to give one strength. One cannot ask for more.~ Pelzmantel, K.A. Laity

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Be kinder than necessary, for everyone you meet is fighting some kind of battle.~ 1st part paraphrased from J.M. Barrie, author of Peter Pan; 2nd part from either Plato or (more likely) Philo of Alexandria

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If you are kind, people may accuse you of selfish ulterior motives... be kind anyway

If you are successful, you will win some false friends and some true enemies... succeed anyway

If you are honest and frank, people may cheat you... be honest and frank anyway

What you may spend years building, someone may destroy overnight... build anyway

If you find serenity and happiness, people may be jealous... be happy anyway

The good you do today, people will often forget tomorrow... do good anyway

Give the best you have, and it may never be enough... give the best you have anyway ~ Mother Teresa